3

Katyusha and Olga slowly strode forward, with the small steps expected from their rank, keeping their gazes fixed on their austere father, sat upon the throne at the other side of the room, under the gigantic portrait of their glorious foremother, Catherine the Great.

At his side, the Empress Alexandra Feodorovna, once Charlotte of Prussia, a woman perhaps greying and with evident signs of age on her face, but still able to project an unnatural charm and the austere authority of a true Tsarina.

Not getting more than ten steps away from the throne, the two sisters exhibited a respectful curtsy, almost as if they were nothing more than common peasants to which the privilege of meeting the Tsar had been granted.

The Tsar Nicholas ran a finger through his once straw-yellow, now grizzled from age, moustache, gazing upon his daughters like a judge could before issuing the verdict.

"You may raise your heads." he proudly stated.

The girls obeyed.

"Olga."

"Father?"

"Your return to Russia has cheered both me and your mother. We have sorely missed your presence."

"Thank you, Father."

"And I hope that your voyage across Europe has been useful to you."

"It has been. And I am grateful to You for allowing me to have this experience."

"I trust that you understand that it wasn't a mere voyage of pleasure. You are almost twenty-one years old, and the proposals for your hand keep coming without pause. I am confident that you have used the time I granted you to get to know a few of your suitors."

"Yes, Father. I did indeed meet a few."

"Later you shall tell me what is your impression of them. I have no intention to give my daughter away to an imbecile or to someone unworthy of marrying a Grand Duchess of Russia. But be aware that the moment to choose a husband will come sooner rather than later."

"When the time will come, I shall be ready to do my part for the good of the Empire."

"And as of you, Ekaterina..."

Both the tone and the glare were hardly good omens, so much so that Katyusha automatically lowered her head.

"I have received less than flattering news lately. I was told, recently you have much neglected your studies. There is not a single teacher that has brought me any good news in the last three months."

"It's... that..." she stammered, unable to find either the words or the courage to answer her father.

"Unlike your sister, it looks like you are still ignorant of the responsibilities and the duties of your role.

You are a Romanov, and you are my daughter. I expect that you act like it."

The Tsar was hardly a newcomer to these lectures, yet now he looked even angrier than usual.

"What do you say to that?"

"I..." she said, biting her tongue. "I have no excuses, Father. And I beg your forgiveness."

"This time I will no longer wait for the situation to change. If it's a Spartan education that you need, so be it."

The Tsar gestured towards the guard close to the back door on the right side of the throne, and soon after that was opened, the two sisters saw a distinguished man of the cloth, roughly forty years old. The first glance seemed to confirm his non-Russian origins that his Catholic attire had indicated, for his slightly tanned skin, his curly black hair and the thick black moustache, but even though his expression and his figure didn't look neither threatening nor ominous, Katyusha felt discomfort as soon as their gazes met.

"My respects, Your Imperial Highnesses." he said in a hesitant Russian, respectfully bowing and showing a smile that, for the briefest moment, made Olga's heart beat faster.

"This man here is Padre Ansaldi from Savona, in Italy. He masters all the fields of the human knowledge. And from today, Ekaterina, he shall be your new tutor."

"My... tutor?!" she said shocked, well aware of the monarch's opinions on Western costumes and culture.

"And that's not the end of it. When the summer will end, The rest of the family and I will return to the Winter Palace. You shall remain here at Peterhof, instead, until Padre Ansaldi will bring me news of your improvements."

"What!? But, Father..."

With commendable speed Olga gave a small pull to her skirt and an eloquent gesture with her finger; once more, Katyusha had to swallow her disappointment.

"There will be no more discussion of this. Your irresponsible behavior has left me no other choice. I will leave here the essential personnel, together with a small garrison."

Just then, an attendant walked in from the back door, reaching respectfully for the Tsar.

"Your Imperial Majesty, Mr. Parson is here." he told him in a low whisper.

"Tell him I shall receive him in a few minutes."

The attendant disappeared as quickly as he appeared, followed by Padre Ansaldi as well, so the Tsar returned his attention to his daughters.

"For today this is enough. You may go. But later I wish to speak further with you, Olga. Besides, I am quite sure your mother will want to come visit you in your rooms."

"I will be available for anything that you may wish from me, Father."

Katyusha was not granted the same degree of kindness, but there was precious little to do, at that point.

Therefore, breaking the protocol like only the two of them could do without consequence, the two Grand Duchesses exited the room turning their backs on the sovereign, not without having adequately curtsied once more, however.

"Dear, may I speak honestly with you?" said the Empress, as soon as the pair was finally alone.

"As if I could forbid you."

"Aren't you a little too harsh on Ekaterina?"

"Ekaterina is my daughter, and a Romanov. And, as I already said, she seems to be utterly unable to grasp that concept."

"She is little more than a child, yet you seem to expect much from her."

"Infancy is a luxury that one cannot afford to have, when he or she is born in a family such as ours. I did understand it time ago, as did my brothers. She will as well." At that, the Tsar's eyes went down in an enigmatic way. "She has to. Because she has not much time left."

The Tsarina felt her heart clench a little.

"What do you mean?"

Nicholas paused a little, running his fingers once more between his moustaches.

"I have received news from Piedmont. The Savoy are secretly negotiating to join the Franco-British alliance. Therefore, I reached an agreement with Vittorio Emanuele: Ekaterina's hand in marriage for his son Amedeo, in exchange for Piedmont's neutrality."

"What did you do!?"

"I had no choice. Our Empire is in a dangerous and precarious position. Our only hope right now is to improve as much as possible our relationships with as many states as we can, and marriages are the easiest way to smooth things over. It's Olga's destiny, and it will be that of Ekaterina's as well."

Charlotte, as an Empress and borne of royal blood, could easily understand the matter. Unfortunately, the harsh truth was that unions among reigning couples that were driven by sincere and reciprocal love (as had been the case for her and her consort) were the exception rather than the rule, and all too often it was arranged out of mere calculations.

She understood that; but it didn't mean that she could accept that, especially if it was about her daughters.

Renewed knocking at the door avoided further discussions, and a few moments later, before the Imperial couple, another man was introduced, rather plump (if not chubby), some forty years old, with well groomed yellow hair, clad in an elegant blue suit, and showing off an expensive pocket watch.

"Your Imperial Majesties."

"Welcome, Mr. Parson."

"I find you in a very fine shape, Your Majesty. I hope that the medicine based on agave proved effective on your pains and respiratory issues."

"It was, indeed. And I thank you for that, Mr. Parson." she said in a strange way, perfectly polite but standoffish.

"That will be quite enough of chit-chat, Mr. Parson. I want to ask, why was my order not processed yet?"

"I humbly beg you to understand, Your Majesty, that the present business is quite unlike what we did in the past; this time, it's a rather sizable order, so big that Congressional approval is required."

"Then I invite you to urge for such approval."

"I am doing that without respite, Your Majesty. Yesterday I wrote a personal letter to President Pierce himself; I am confident that, with his support, this deadlock will be overcome as soon as possible."

"There are a lot of people out there in the weapons trade, Mr. Parson. I advise you, don't make me look for somebody else."

"I am very much aware of that, Your Majesty."

Once his guest had been discharged with not quite as much politeness as would have been required, the Tsar was finally able to stand up, and walk to the nearest window to savor at least some of that pleasant midsummer sun.

"In my opinion, you are far too trusting in that man, dear."

"There is no other choice, my love. Despite my words, the reality is that we are all alone, fighting the greatest powers in the world with an ill-prepared and ill-equipped army. And the United States are as of now the only partner in which we can hope to count on, to try and turn the tide of this accursed war."